


It Happened One Friday in Philadelphia

by Becangle



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Travel Adventure, mostly fun, screwball comedy, set in the 1940's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becangle/pseuds/Becangle
Summary: When Rosalind Lord-McKenzie visits her employer one last time, she ends up on a wild pug chase- with her former husband in tow.
Relationships: Bobby McKenzie/Main Character (Love Island)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 27





	1. His Girl Rosalind

Chicago IL, April 3, 1940

The brisk air rushed past as she took those familiar steps towards the office where she’d spent so much of her life. Wasted as the ace bloodhound, sniffing out scoop after scoop, typing till her fingers ached at all hours of the night. 

It was past time to move on. Officially say good riddance to the man who drove her crazy, stealing her energy and zest for life. She swung open the wooden door, hearing the soothing click-clack of the typewriters.

This place never changed- reeking of desperation, the smell of ink, and decaying dreams. 

“Hello, Ros,” a familiar voice called out. She was greeted by the stable of desk rats. Most had been there for years, toiling away at the same desk. Writing trash for the Koh family. Greeting them amiably, she quickly shuffled past, not losing focus on her target. 

More importantly, she couldn’t lose focus on who she wanted to avoid. _Him._ The man she once loved, but more often than not hated. She would not be charmed by his sweet, seductive lies, his teasing freckled face. He could talk her into anything, but she wasn’t giving him the chance today. She was just here to settle things with Lucas, stop him from ringing her line several times a week, trying to coax her back into this dingey soul-sucking place.

As she turned a corner, she let out a groan at the approaching figure. 

“Ms. Rosalind, it’s so good to see you again, we’ve missed you tons, hasn’t been the same.” Felix rambled on, somehow oblivious to her disdain. He turned directions, following beside her until she outstrided him, leaving the strange man in her dust.

“Morning Mrs. McKenzie,” Miles said cheerfully, tipping his hat to her as she walked through the hall. She nodded with a grin, shifting back to a frown the moment he passed. 

Mrs. McKenzie. Would she ever truly be rid of that name? 

God, she hated this place, hated him. The way time had stood still as she threw her life away for the thrill of the chase. The excitement, rush of being the first to break a huge story. A glorious moment of exhilaration that quickly disappeared leaving her desperate for another success. 

She was moving past this, finding new purpose after having wasted ten years of her life at this place. On him. Her goddamn ex-husband who drove her crazy, sometimes in a good way, but usually talking her into outlandish capers that ended with at least one of them in jail or a worse scrape. There was always another story. One last whale. 

Even their honeymoon had been disrupted, having to travel cross-country to San Francisco, abandoning Niagara Falls before they even crossed the Canadian border. 

She had wasted her best years on him, on this temple of gossip. But no more, Rosalind Lord was getting out. Becoming a proper woman. Settling down with a nice lad, a respectable life ahead of her. 

From this day forward, she wouldn’t be a newspaperman. 

Quickly, she walked past the editor in chief’s office, ducking under the windows in case he was there. Presumably not, it was before eleven AM. But the last thing she needed was a run-in with that pompous ass. 

Hurrying past, she finally arrived at her destination.

The sign outside the door adorned with the name, Mr. Koh.

Not even a title. Technically he didn’t have one. He was just the owner’s son, ostensibly running the place for his father, a control freak who couldn’t trust their newspaper entirely in the hands of their unreliable editor-in-chief. He wasn’t a man anyone could trust, not as a wife and or even as an employee. He skirted the rules, making up new ones as they suited them, causing chaos everywhere he went. 

A literal snake in the flesh.

Opening the door without a knock, she abruptly stopped in her tracks. “Oh, It’s you.”

Sitting with that goddamn smile, laying in wait on the absurdly expensive, monstrous mahogany desk. What a waste of space and money that thing was. Used for pushing papers back and forth and day drinking.

Almost as useless as the man sitting atop it. Smirking at her, pulling at the straps of his suspenders before spreading his hands on each side of him, a stupid grin on his face. His navy blazer, haphazardly set beside him on the desk. 

“Lass-”

“Do not call me that.” 

“Afraid you won’t be able to resist me, Lindy?” He said in his Scottish accent that never failed to win her over, utterly irresistible as it was difficult to understand. 

“Resist smacking you in the face, maybe.”

“I would rather you smack me somewhere else.” He paused, waiting for a response she refused to give. “I thought you would be happy to see me. Don’t you ever get nostalgic? We had some good times.”

“I must have blocked those out.” _If only I couldn’t remember sneaking in here, the way he bent me over that desk._ Memories of sneaking into Lucas’s office were burned into her head and from the expression on his face, he knew it. 

“I can remind you of them.” He approached, his face doing that obnoxious smouldering thing she hated.

She placed a hand up, trying her best to look stern. “Bobby, stay back. I’m not here to deal with you and your idiocy today. I’m here for Lucas and his idiocy. Where is he?”

“Don’t you mean Mr. Koh? Look at you, so informal. What _would_ the boss say?” Bobby moved to the other side of the large empty desk. He opened a drawer pulling out a bottle of scotch followed by two lowball glasses, etched with the Koh family crest.

“A drink?” She raised a brow. “I suppose I’m going to need one to get through this conversation.”

He chuckled, pouring expensive scotch into each glass. He walked towards her, smugly. He was always so smug. She lived for the moments where she could knock that damn smile off his face. 

Bobby held the glass towards her and as she reached forward, he pulled the glass just out of her reach. She rolled her eyes and he yielded with a smirk, offering it to her once again. Shaking her head, she accepted the drink, immediately downing the entire glass. She reveled in the burning sensation as it hit her tongue and rolled down her throat.

“Lucas would be furious if he saw you doing that. That’s good scotch, meant to be savored. Just like other things.” He pierced her with a knowing look, taking a small sip of his drink, his amber eyes never leaving hers. “What brings you here on this lovely April day?”

“Lovely?” Today was a dreary, cold, spring day in Chicago, nothing pleasant about it. The cold was biting, appropriate for a last trip into this hellhole. 

“Aye, it’s always a lovely day when Rosalind McKenzie walks through my door.” Shifting backward, he effortlessly hopped back onto the desk, his glass of scotch held perfectly in place, not a drop spilled. 

“Unlucky for me, I didn’t walk through _your_ door. Why are you here? Where’s Lucas?”

“For some reason he wanted me here for this.” Bobby shrugged playfully “I can’t imagine why.”

Rosalind laughed bitterly. “Me neither, I’m done with this place and I’m done with you.”

“ _Are_ you _?_ ” He raised a questioning brow. The same dopey look on his face from when she told him she was leaving. 

“That’s what the divorce papers said.”

Bobby let out a booming laugh, any attempts at looking gutted evaporated. “Oh, lass, you've got an old fashioned idea divorce is something that lasts forever, 'til death do us part.' Why divorce doesn't mean anything nowadays, just a few words mumbled over you by a judge.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Bobs.” She walked closer, deftly moving past, retrieving the bottle to pour herself another glass. 

“Lindy,” he smirked, “I know a secret, something you don’t know. But deep down, I’m sure you do.”

She stayed silent, not taking his bait, knowing there was no need. He couldn’t shut up, it was one of his most irritating qualities. 

“You’re never going to be able to give this up. Me? Maybe. _Maybe._ But I think we both know you’re still stuck on me. But this place? The hunt? Never. You’re a newspaperman through and through. It’s in your blood. Meant to be. Just like us. There's been a lamp burning in the window for ya, lass... here.” he patted his lap, shooting her a wink.

Ros laughed, “Oh, I jumped out that window a long time ago. I found a better window. A more responsible one.”  
  
He pulled himself off the desk, with a gasp. “What’s that mean?”

“Oh, is that of interest to you? That I managed to find a man who wasn’t self-obsessed? Someone good and kind. That I can trust to show up for dinner on time? And not drag me off to Kansas on a lead that turns out to be a bupkis? Someone with a job, who leaves their work at the office, doesn’t want to talk shop in his free time. That sort of man?” 

“Aye, I believe you could, but why would you want someone that dull?” His eyes wide, in that challenging way.

She opened her mouth to snap back, and defend her betrothed, when the door shifted open, Lucas finally making an appearance. His face shifted into surprise. “You’re here early.” 

Ros looked to her watch, to confirm what she already knew. “No, I’m not, I was told to be here at 9:30 sharp. It’s now 9:34 am, which means Bobby here has wasted another four minutes of my life.” 

“I told Lucy to schedule this for 10 am.” Lucas immediately narrowed his eyes at Bobby.

Bobby shrugged, his arms outstretched and that obnoxious look fixed upon his face. That stupid face that always said. ‘Yeah I did it, can you blame me?’

And he always got away with it, that was the worst of it. He was impossible to stay angry with. Even now, she knew he could charm her back into his bed at least for a night. But where would they be in the morning? Bickering about the way he buttered his toast. 

“Bobby…” Lucas directed his calm authoritative voice towards his Editor-in-Chief.

“Lucas…” Bobby mirrored, tapping playfully on his knees. 

“Get off my desk,” Lucas said, moving towards his desk and sitting behind it, leaning back into the leather chair. Sighing in exhaustion from having to deal with Bobby before coffee.

A feeling Rosalind could relate to. 

Ros sat on the edge of his desk and pulled out a cigarette, ignoring the scowl on Lucas’s face. He had a stick lodged up his ass, the only way to deal with it was digging at his edges, embracing her unprofessional side, he needed it, something to keep his perfectly chiseled ego from imploding. Bobby retrieved a lighter, over in a dash to assist, holding the flame in front of her as she drew in the first puffs. She took a long drag before pushing herself off the desk.

“What did you call me here for? You know I’m done with this racket,” Ros said, quickly pacing the room, desperate to be done with this. Lucas’s office was so cramped even when she wanted to be here, she felt like a caged animal. Eager to get on with the broad strokes and move on to tracking down leads, being out in the field. The satisfying part of her work. 

Lucas shrugged. “You know why. I have a story that could make your career, I need you.”

“I don’t need you.” 

“Are you sure? If you really don’t want to hear what I have to say, there’s the door.” He gestured, without turning his stern gaze from her face. “But I think after what I have to say, you won’t be so eager to rush off into your new life.”

Ros crossed her arms, indignant, but too curious to leave. Why couldn’t she just leave? Walk out, if not now, could she ever? She sighed, resigned to her fate. “What’s the story? You have ten seconds to impress me.”

“Are you familiar with the pug gang?” He cracked his knuckles, casting an annoyed look at the opened bottle of scotch in front of him. 

“Trio of female criminals terrorizing New England with their mostly petty crimes. Yes, why?”

He began to speak, “they-”

“Your time is up.” Rosalind interrupted, her heel turning sharply as she turned towards the door. 

“They sent you something,” Lucas said, raising his voice, stopping her in her tracks. 

Unable to help herself she turned, catching a glimpse of Bobby’s curious face. Whatever was happening he was just as ignorant as she. 

Lucas held an envelope outstretched, directing it towards her, taunting her with it. “Do you know why they call them the pug gang?”

“Everyone does, they leave a sketch of a pug after every burglary. What of it?”

“This came for you. No stamp, just a name. Rosalind Lord-McKenzie.”

She cringed hearing her name, his name.

“Just Lord these days,” she corrected, shooting Bobby a glare, like the misaddressing was his fault.

“Semantics.” Lucas shrugged. “This came for you. Do you want it?”

She thought about it? What did she have to gain from any of this? As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the feeling of breaking a case. If they were willing to sit down for an interview, it could be an incredible story. It was the most unique crime spree she had seen in her time in the racket. 

“Depends what it says,” she answered, trying to sound casual like she wasn’t dying to know why they had sought her out, of all the reporters in the state. 

Her boss opened the envelope, looking once more at the paper that he was clearly already familiar with. “Just an address and a pretty good drawing of a pug.” He turned the paper towards her for only a moment, catching a glimpse of the pug, his hand covering the address.

“Why would they send something to me?”

“I’m not sure, maybe they’re trying to corrupt you into joining their sinful team. Maybe they want to get their story out to the public. Maybe they want to play pug and cat with you. I don’t know. Or care. But I need you to find out. This has the potential to be huge. Interview them, catch them, I don’t care, anything that can create a story.”

“No, thank you.” She stared at him. “I’m done with this. With you, especially with him.” She gestured to Bobby, who was quietly leaning against the wall. Too quietly. She could never trust it, knowing he was probably concocting some scheme. 

“Be serious, Rosalind. You could get a Pulitzer, an expose of feminism and crime. I know you, you want this. It will give you the cache to turn it into whatever you want.” Lucas’ voice was grave, with little mocking. Like Bobby, he was good at this, convincing people of things he knew weren’t true. 

“I can’t believe you think I would be tempted by this. A Pulitzer, you’re full if you think I’m going to swallow that line,” Rosalind barked out in laughter. 

Before Bobby could utter a word, his mouth barely open, Ros shot him a glare. He sheepishly closed his mouth and made a show of zipping his lips. 

“I don’t care about this sort of thing anymore,” She continued. “I’m getting married, I’ve got a good and proper man waiting out in the car for me.”

“He’s there now? Just waiting for you?” Bobby raised a brow.

“Of course he is, he’s a good man, not skipping off for snacks like you would have done.”

“Tell us about this new beau of yours.” Bobby crossed his arms. “The man who convinced Rosalind McKenzie to give up her life of adventure for the humdrum dullery of housework.”

“I don’t know why I should tell you anything, but just so you’ll leave him alone and not have Miles tail him, I will. He’s a librarian, he lives at home with his dear old Mother. He’s saving to buy us a home-”

“A home? What about our home?” Bobby huffed.

 _"Our home_?” Against her better instincts, she raised her voice. “What home exactly was that?”

“The home I promised you, we were going to do it sometime. You can’t rush these things.”

Her blood pressure rising, she felt herself losing her temper. Why was he always so difficult to deal with? “Rush these things? We spent ten years in that dinky apartment before I tired of you and your empty promise. You can’t take anything seriously. Now, I’m moving on. I’m going to iron his socks and have babies.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Babies? I could have given you babies, why didn’t you just ask?” 

“Can we get back to this?” Lucas tapped on his desk indignantly. “Leave your dirty laundry at that home you failed to provide.” 

Ros clicked her tongue, shooting Lucas a grateful smile. For a moment, it felt like old times. Lucas playing referee for their usually silly disagreements. 

Even with the fighting, things had been mostly good, fun. But through the years, she had slowly burned out, no longer satisfied with what they had. He had never cheated on her, always showering her with love and affection, so much so that she craved it desperately in his absence. They spent long hours in the office, together but not together, laughing and chatting nonsense, fighting and making up.

When they were in his office alone, everyone knew to stay out, not wanting to walk in on either. 

She still didn’t know where things had gone wrong, barely remembering the final straw, the last little fight that made her impulsively file for divorce. 

Maybe it was the simple realization that she was thirty-three, and wanted more than running off at 2 am to catch the train on the off chance that a lead would turn out to be true. More often than not it was a bust. Nothing was more exhilarating than a success but was it worth the nights of failures? Being unable to sleep. The buzzing of a potential story giving her more energy than any peaceful night of rest. Turning a story into glorious words that the world would pay attention to. It was everything, it filled her up more than anything ever could.

She hoped the laugh of her first child would have that effect. God, what if it didn’t? She shook off the thought, refusing to consider the prospect.

Would it hurt to have one last hurrah? Before settling down for a life with Noah and all those babies she had promised him?

“Ok, where’s the address?” She paused, hesitating a moment. “ This could be a hell of a story. Maybe it could even turn into a series of novels. I could write my own adventures after this,” she said wistfully. 

“You’ll never be happy just writing about adventures,” Bobby mumbled, just loud enough for her to catch. 

Lucas answered her, “It’s not too far, in St Louis. Are you in?” 

She hesitated. This was too juicy to turn down. Opening her mouth, she snapped it shut again. Instead, she simply nodded, reaching for the envelope outstretched towards her.”

Lucas nodded in return. “I think you should take Bobby.”

“Me?” Bobby choked out a laugh. “Mate, she’ll kill me.”

“Why him? ” She pulled away, settling in against the wall, narrowing her eyes at Lucas.

“Because you do better together than apart. I swear, despite it all, you need each other. Just get over yourself and do this together. It’ll be quicker and a better story.” Lucas paused, running a hand through his perfectly gelled hair. “Plus, I could use the break. Please take him back for the sake of the paper. He keeps coming round for dinner, Hope is fed up with it.”

Ros stifled a laugh, not at all surprised by his ulterior motives. “He’s your burden now. I’m doing this alone, I don’t need him. I’m a modern woman, I can travel without a companion. Besides, I have this.” She reached for an umbrella, pulling a dark green one out of the rack to the left of the office door. 

Lucas let out a deep sigh. “Ok, but I think it’s a bad idea. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Don’t underestimate them.” His voice was skeptical but he held out the envelope towards her.

As she reached for it, it was quickly grasped by Bobby, who ran for the door. He held the envelope, placing it atop his head, delicately balanced on his locs. Grabbing one of Lucas’s hats from the rack, he popped it on and opened the door. He turned, blocking the exit with his limber, toned arm.

“Let’s have lunch. I want to meet this fella of yours. And if you still don’t want me to come after lunch, I’ll give you this back, deal?” he asked, his words dripping with that mischievous snark, like he knew he was going to get one over on her.

She wasn’t going to let him win this time.

“Deal,” she said, pushing past him and through the door, casually waving goodbye to Lucas.

Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Bobby was never going to let her leave without meeting the man she had promised to marry. 

She needed to be let off his hook. Let herself off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by....His Girl Friday.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8lzyaMZ-mA&ab_channel=Movieclips


	2. don't be hasty, remember my dimple

If there was one thing Bobby knew with absolute certainty, it was that he would never get over Rosalind Lord. 

He had fallen hard for her the moment they met, and every day loved her more. How could a woman be so witty, charming, and bold? And why did she always have to look so gorgeous? Without even trying, she knew what she was doing to him and he would let her do it a million times. What was the alternative? There was never another option. She was the only woman for him, and despite her protestations otherwise, he knew it was the same for her.

This divorce was a minor break. He had called her bluff and she followed through, but this was a temporary detour in their love story. He had let himself lose sight of the important things, it was an error he would never make again.

He would never admit to her or even Lucas that what truly terrified him was the minor chance he was wrong. That he had screwed things up beyond repair.

Momentarily, he returned to Lucas’s office to retrieve his suit jacket, promising the boss he would take care of Ros before heading for the exit, ignoring the drones. She would wait, he knew it. But he hurried all the same, opening the door, forcefully with purpose. 

She was his purpose. 

He plastered on his trademark smile and approached the man seated in the black car in front of the Morning Post office. The streets were busy, bustling with people walking past against the sound of the honking of cars. 

He swooped down, lowering his head to the open window. “You must be the man who has stolen my dear Rosalind’s heart. A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Bobby,” Rosalind’s irritated voice cut through. 

“Ros, dear, I’m chatting with your hubby to be. Can you give me a moment?”

“Well, I-,” the elderly man in the car stammered, his gray eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Bobby,” Ros repeated, drawing his eye back to her.

Her arm was entwined with another man, she rolled her eyes and tapped her foot. Bobby stepped towards the taller man, assessing him. He was tall, too tall for Ros. His better half always said she didn’t want to look up at a man. Why put her neck through that? Ros and Bobby stood the same height. It was something they had always laughed about, joked that they were stuck together. Perfect kissing height. 

This man who she was betrothed to stood four inches taller than them both, with medium brown skin, eyes almost as gold as his own, and dark curly hair. He was attractive. Bobby wasn’t surprised, Ros was gorgeous, of course she could land a handsome man. It would just make things more of a challenge. He loved a challenge, as did Ros. It was what brought them together, feeding the flames of their attraction. And ultimately, _but only temporarily_ doomed them. 

“Where are your manners, Lindy? Are you going to introduce us?”

“Noah, this is my snake of an ex-husband, Robert McKenzie.” She smiled slyly, always so confident and captivating.

Bobby held out his hand, firmly shaking Noah’s. “Please call me Bobby. All my friends and ex-wives do.”

Noah nodded, a tight smile on his face as Rosalind continued. “Bobby, this is Noah Cetinay, my fiance.”

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Cetinay.” Bobby bowed lightly, earning a jab in his side from Ros. “Now shall we grab that lunch we talked about?” He rubbed his side, playing up his pain, ignoring the scowl from Rosalind. 

“Lunch? It’s only...” Noah looked at his watch, his eyes widened incredulously. “It’s only 10:20 am. _Far_ too early for lunch.”

“Maybe for you. When you’re in the newspaper game like me and Ros over here, you have your meals at all hours of the day. Sometimes dinner at 4 am. It’s a crazy life, but you know our Ros. She’s a wild broad. I once saw her eat an entire chicken at two in the morning one night on a caper in Boston.”

“Let’s just move on and get this over with.” Ros shook her head, leading Noah down the street. “Where are we going?” Noah asked.

Bobby cut in, “Carl’s, it’s down the street, it’s the best place for an early lunch. It’s one of our favorite spots.” Bobby rushed to the couple, gently placing an arm around Noah. “You and I are going to be the best of friends, I can feel it.”

Noah looked justifiably skeptical about that prospect.

 _You should be worried_. Two minutes with this guy and there was no chance Ros would ever be satisfied with this walking plank of wood. If Bobby could manage to get through this lunch without falling asleep, it would be a goddamn miracle. 

The bell rang as they opened the door to Carl’s. The owner rushed over to welcome them, his lilting Irish accent breaking through the silence of the otherwise empty diner. Carl was a little off, but he made good sandwiches and they bonded over being foreigners living in Chicago. The sandwich maker had grown up in Ireland moving to the states a few years prior. Bobby had taken the boat over alone fifteen years ago, almost immediately running into Lucas at a pub and getting a job as a mail clerk at his father’s newspaper. He had worked through the ranks, ultimately ending up as Editor-in-Chief at the 4th most prestigious newspaper in Chicago. It was more than he ever could have hoped for but he could never be complacent, his poverty-stricken roots never entirely forgotten. He couldn’t abide failure, risking a fall to the bottom. As much as he hated it sometimes, work always took precedent.

“Three reubens and sidecar’s as usual, good sir.” Bobby addressed Carl who nodded. “Me and Lindy, we used to come almost every day around this time back in the day.” 

They settled at the front table they typically shared, a view of the street, close to the door in case there was a need to rush back to the office. Noah held out a chair and Bobby immediately plopped down into the spot. “Thanks, mate.”

Noah grumbled under his breath as Bobby hid a smile. 

Rosalind simply rolled her eyes as Noah pulled out another chair and she sat down. 

“So, I hear you’re going to make an honest woman out of our girl Lindy here.” Bobby placed his hands under his chin, directing a smile towards the milquetoast man in front of him. 

“I am,” Noah paused carefully considering his words. “I plan to-”

“Well that’s great, Rosalind only deserves the best.” He shifted towards Rosalind, placing a hand over hers, tapping it twice before turning away, looking back to the other man in her life with a cheery smile. He opened his mouth, preparing to speak before Carl stepped closer, interrupting the conversation and setting a lowball glass in front of each person. Rosalind immediately picked her’s up, taking a long sip. Bobby chuckled before doing the same. 

“We’re getting married this weekend,” Noah announced, casually like it wasn’t Bobby’s nightmare scenario come to life. 

“This weekend?” Bobby coughed out in surprise, nearly knocking over his cocktail. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure. “Oh, that’s odd. Lindy didn’t mention that, right lass? What about our trip to St Louis?”

“St Louis?” His brow furrowed, settling in a way that made Bobby think it was a common event. 

Bobby grinned widely. “That’s right, dear old boy, Rosalind and I here are going on a wild pug hunt. Our favorite kind, to get an interview with the infamous Pug Gang. Have you heard of them? They’re a trio of femme fatales leaving a string of healthy people without their jewels and gold up-and-down the eastern seaboard. Now, they’re here. Can you believe it? And they sent our girl here a letter, wanting her to interview them. I thought we could leave right after lunch. Right Ros? Don’t want to miss it? Especially since you’re getting married this weekend right?”

Ros ignored Bobby, looking towards Noah. “We’re still getting married this weekend, I just have to take a little trip first. It’s just St Louis, only a few hours away. I’ll be back in a flash, you won’t even have a chance to miss me,” she said softly, with a familiarity that made Bobby feel itchy. 

“Well, I don’t know,” Noah hemmed and hawed annoyingly. 

“I promise. And despite what he thinks, Bobby’s not going with me. I’m going alone,” she reassured, her voice soothing. 

It had been too long since he had heard her like that, been the recipient of that affection. He missed all of her, but especially her soft side that few got to see. Just him. And now Noah apparently.

That gutted him more than the news that they were to be wed. 

Bobby cocked his head, addressing his love. “Really Ros? I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’re chasing down dangerous criminals, they could have weapons. Can’t discount them because their ladies! They would do anything to stay out of jail, including hurt my lass.” Bobby turned to Noah, trying his best to widen his eyes in concern. Drive the point home. “It just doesn’t seem safe to go. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, right Noah?” 

“I could go…” Noah suggested.

“Oh, but you don’t know the ropes like I do. How to get information out of people. Tell when people are trustworthy. Ros needs someone who has her back. Someone who can sniff out a problem so she can work on the big picture stuff.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Noah looked skeptically towards Ros, a smile playing on her lips.

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself,” she calmly defended. It was a more subdued tone that she would have given Bobby in that same situation. How different was she when around this giant block of sand? 

Noah’s face had shifted into a frown. “I know Ros, but this sounds like it could be rough. Maybe you shouldn’t go at all?”

“Don’t worry,” Bobby interjected. “I’ll take excellent care of Ros here, that’s a husband’s job. I know we’re divorced and all.” He waved the idea away as if it was absurd. “But I’ll always think of her as my wife. Look out for her. I’d take a bullet for her. Almost did once. Remember, Ros that time in Cleveland? With the woman who was screaming about the shrimp. _‘The shrimp, the shrimp_ ’.” Bobby let out a roaring laugh that Lindy couldn’t help but join in on. 

Looking at the dullard’s long face, it was stone cold, making Bobby laugh louder.

“I’m sorry hun, you had to be there,” she laughed, tapping him affectionately on his arm. 

The smile faded away from Bobby’s lips at the tiny action. Carl brought over their food and they dug in, other than Noah who picked at his. 

“These are the best reubens in all the city.” Bobby gestured to his sandwich. “ You’re missing out.”

Noah frowned again. A common look for the man, he was sure. 

Is this man of chiseled clay so regimented that he can’t have a damn sandwich for an early lunch? What was going on with Ros that she wanted this shell of a man? This wasn’t her, she wasn’t boring and predictable. 

His wild, impulsive lass. Always running after him on some misadventure, although sometimes hidden, always a smile on her face. He still didn’t know what shifted, why she ended things. He stalled the divorce as long as he could, trying to get answers without daring to ask the question. They never came, but he continued to try to convince her to reconcile. 

When Carl brought the check, Bobby gestured for it to be set in front of Noah and pulled out his silver cigarette case. Pulling out one, he handed it to Ros before putting one between his own lips. 

Lighting both cigarettes, he glanced over at Noah digging through his wallet, an irritated scowl on his face. Bobby held back a chuckle, taking a long drag on his cigarette and placing his case back into his inner jacket pocket. They left the restaurant walking back towards the office. Bobby walked quickly, setting a brisk pace beside Rosalind as Noah trailed behind. Taking in the scent of the Tabu perfume she always wore, having enjoyed the name and the unconventional, tawdry name. It became her signature smell- patchouli, carnation, and vanilla. 

“Can I have my letter back? Now that your pointless interrogation has been completed?”

“You _really_ don’t want me to come?” he asked, his tone one of disbelief. She had to want him to come! 

“Very certain.” She quickened her pace, shifting in front of him and abruptly stopping. “The envelope.” 

“Fiiiine,” he moaned, reaching into his jacket pocket, confusion overtaking him when he found nothing but his cigarette case. Bobby shook his head, not even knowing why he should be surprised. Looking up, she held it in her hands, a smirk fixed on her face.

“Sorry, Bobby.” She laughed. “But actually not.” 

“I was going to give it back to you,” he pouted.

“No, you weren’t. I know you. Better than anyone.”

“And I know you and there’s no way you’re going to marry that-” He stopped himself as Noah finally approached. “Noah, happy to see you again. We were just waiting. Not everyone moves as fast as me and Lindy here.” 

“I suppose…” he trailed off, his brow furrowed.

“Noah, I promise I won’t be gone long. I’ll take the 3 o’clock train today and be back by Friday. Saturday morning at the latest.”

“But we’re getting married on Saturday,” Noah raised his voice slightly, his eyes widened. 

“But not until the afternoon, plenty of time,” she reassured, placing a hand on his arm. 

Noah shook his head. “I don’t like this, cutting things so close. My mother won’t understand.”

Bobby watched the interaction, knowing exactly where he wanted it to go and how to make it arrive by Noah’s suggestion. 

Bobby took a step closer to the duo. “We wouldn’t want to make you late for your own wedding, Ros. You’re a bride to be, there’s a lot to do on your wedding day. I remember on the day of ours-” He turned to address Noah. “-she was in a right panic because the flowers in her bouquet were the wrong shade of lilac.”

“That’s not exactly what happened.” Ros gifted him with one of her famous withering stares.

Bobby ignored it, placing a hand to his chin, his most thoughtful expression burned onto his face. “If only there was a way to get you to St Louis faster than a train. Trains make so many stops, take breaks. It takes you twice as long to get anywhere than if you had taken a car.”

“You should take a car then,” Noah suggested. “You can borrow mine.”

“Oh,” Bobby shook his head, “If only she could. Rosalind doesn’t drive. A city girl through and through. Back in the day, I always used to drive her, never could take turns. I drove till we were exhausted and then we’d check into the cheapest motel around. The good old days.” 

Noah looked lost in thought, hard at work trying to solve the puzzle of how to get Ros back in time for their wedding. 

Rosalind couldn’t quite contain the tiny smile forming at the corners of her lips. She walked over to Noah placing her arms around him, settling her hands on each of his cheeks. 

Bobby averted his eyes, nausea settling in his stomach. He hated this, that she even thought she wanted to be with someone else. 

“I’ll take Bobby with, he can drive. It’s Wednesday now, I promise we’ll be back by Friday morning.”

Noah nodded in approval. 

Bobby reveled in the satisfying thrill rolling up his spine. She was never going to leave without him. They were inevitable, it was the same for her. There were other options, but they would always choose each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by....His Girl Friday (again)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eom_iOkd0-I&ab_channel=Movieclips


	3. I'll stop a car and I won't use my thumb.

Before she knew it, they were on the road. Bags quickly packed, farewells given, and in a flash, they were off to St Louis, Missouri in Noah’s blue Ford sedan. 

They traveled well together, making her _ almost _ glad to have him. But things were different now. He wouldn’t rest an easy hand on her thigh, drawing shapes, teasing her, sometimes making her ache while they drove endless miles. Now it was hands on the wheel, ten and two. Eyes straight on the road and not a single longing look.

As irritating as it was, she needed him for this. It was logical, they would make better time and the thought of driving with Noah left her nervous. He was a pleasant sort of man. But other than clearing his throat awkwardly during dinner, he was so damn silent. Why always so quiet?

He once told her that being able to sit together in silence was a sign of closeness. But she suspected that he was incapable of carrying a conversation and used the line as a crutch. It suited her fine most days, not eager to hear about his life of collecting dust in the Chicago Library. She was fond of him, enjoyed his company. They could be happy, she knew he cared for her. And she liked him. She hadn't been afraid of marrying him, but the thought of being stuck in a car with him for hours terrified her. 

Perhaps, it was the simple fact that she wanted to separate her old and new life. She couldn’t taint Noah, bringing him into the seedy world she had shared with Bobby. Let him see her in reporter mode. Wild and aggressive at times, manipulative at others. Hard and difficult, it wasn't who she wanted to be anymore. What she wanted. 

More than anything she wanted something easy, needed it at this point of her life. And Noah was nice, easy-going, blissfully unaware of how abrasive and awful she could be. She wanted to be the person he thought she was, nice and kind, sweet and even-tempered. 

Bobby rambled on, telling stories of his youth- ones she had heard a million times, but never failed to soothe her. Always pulling them out when he knew she was on edge, feeling anxious, antsy. It bothered her how well he still knew her. How he saw her like no one else. 

He would never move on from her, it was an impossibility she knew deep in her core, but she could move past  _ him _ . If she really wanted to. Which she did. As much as she craved his voice, the touch of his hands, the hot breath he would gift her neck with, she needed to move on. 

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, humming to himself. He could never be quiet but somehow that never irritated her. One of the few things she loved. If only his other traits weren’t so bothersome.

She sighed, wondering if this trip had been a good idea. Probably not. Why couldn’t she resist him? Completely cut him off? 

The moment Lucas suggested bringing Bobby, she knew there was no escaping it. Any attempts to leave him behind were an exercise in futility. They would do this together, as they always had.

Why did she have to take the bait? She couldn’t just ignore Lucas’s calls until after her wedding? Instead, four days before she was set to become Mrs. Noah Cetinay, she walked through those doors one last time.

It nagged at her. Why? Did she want him to ruin her marriage before it began?

If so, what the hell was wrong with her?

She watched him as his lean fingers gripped the steering wheel. Always knowing exactly how to touch her, make her call out his name. If she asked him now, he would. Her cheeks flushed red as the idea lingered in her mind, he was always so skilled- reaching under her skirt with ease, never needing to turn his eyes from the road. Still, her body ached for him. 

Was he thinking about her too? Remembering during late nights how she would keep him awake. 

Shaking her head, she turned away, gazing out the window, watching the trees pass, letting them blend together in a blur.  _ Keep the focus on the job, in a few days we’ll be done. Land that front-page interview, move onto a new life with Noah. _ It was silly to come here, with him. She wasn’t a newspaperman anymore. Instead, on the road to becoming a domestic goddess. Sure, she didn’t know how to cook, clean, or care for babies, but as an intelligent woman, if anyone can figure it out, it was her.

Three hours later, they were almost outside St. Louis. One more hour of travel and they would be there. Her nerves jolted excitedly, soon she would have answers. 

Now, all she needed was to figure out the questions. 

“Why do pugs hate the rain?”

Ros shot him a glare. 

“They're afraid of stepping on a poodle.” Bobby opened his mouth in pride, looking towards her, excitedly waiting for a laugh that Ros would never give him. He laughed to himself and shifted his gaze back to the road. “How did you meet Noah?” Bobby suddenly asked. 

The question hit her hard, an odd stabbing feeling forming in her gut. Hearing Noah’s name on his lips bothered her in a strange way she couldn’t articulate or even understand. It felt wrong somehow. But she answered the question all the same. 

“Hope and Lucas seated us together at a dinner party a couple of months ago.”

“Why wasn’t I there?” There was an annoying, curious glint in his eye as he spoke. 

“Do I really need to answer that? Remember last time, what happened with the potatoes?” She raised a brow. 

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. They’re so stuffy sometimes, those two.”

“A perfect match,” she said with a chuckle. 

“A perfect match,” he repeated, suddenly growing quiet for a few moments. “Do you love him?”

“None of your business,” she answered, her words cold and biting. Irritated that he would even ask. 

“Really?”

“No, it’s not anymore.” Rosalind avoided his eye, watching the road ahead. She had to keep her eye on the prize -her life ahead, not her past sitting beside her, nagging her with questions she couldn’t answer. “When are you going to give up on me? Why must you continue to be such a stubborn idiot?”

“I come from a long line of stubborn idiots. It’s the only life I know, Lindy.” He shrugged. “What have you been up to? Other than finding someone you lov-like?” The way he intentionally corrected, another little needle on her skin.

Teasing what they both knew- they could only love each other. 

“Can you drive faster? The sooner we get this over with, the quicker I can be done with you.” 

“That would hurt my feelings if I thought you really meant it, lass,” he chuckled annoyingly. 

She muttered something under her breath, letting him know with her tone she was done chatting, no longer willing to put up with him. He understood and finally shut his yap. For at least a few minutes. 

They pulled over for one last stop to refill their gas tank and soon continued on their way. Bobby immediately dove back into his classic, riveting conversation questions. “If you could be any animal in the world, which would you choose?” “How many chickens would it take to kill an elephant?” 

She flipped on the radio, hoping to drown him out, raising the volume until he stopped jabbering. 

“Fine, I get the point, but I get to choose. Drivers rights and all that jazz.” He pushed her hand away from the dial, moving from classical to a swoony romantic song by Tommy Dorsey before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

“Oh no, no, no. That's too mushy,” Ros moaned. 

“Too bad, I like mushy stuff,” he said with a shrug, a relaxed smile on his face as he looked over at her. His goddamn smile could charm the pants off a nun. She had been doomed from that first moment, her first day in the office. His stupid glimmering amber eyes, his irritating confident smirk, the freckles that immediately captivated her, and his obnoxious Scottish accent that left her breathless. From the start, she was a fool for him. This frustrating jester of a man. 

Twenty minutes later, suddenly the car began sputtering, steam rising from the engine as the car slowly stalled out on the dirt road they had found themself on. 

“What the hell?” Ros called out, a death stare making its way to Bobby. 

He clutched his hands to his chest defensively. “What? It’s not my fault.”

“Oh, so it’s just a coincidence that the car broke down….I know Noah. He keeps his car in tip-top shape. If something went wrong with it, it’s your fault. Sabotaging us. I should have expected you to pull something like this,” she yelled out in exasperation. 

She opened the door of the car, stepping out in a huff, her heel digging into the grass. “Ugh,” she moaned, walking around the car to Bobby’s side. 

“How can you think such a thing of me?” Bobby asked, meeting her with a skip in his step. 

Rosalind ignored him, walking right up the road. Sticking out her thumb. 

Bobby laughed, “think there’s a lot of traffic here?”

“Get lost Bobby, I can manage without your help.” A car whizzed by, not pausing for the stranded motorists.

“I can help, I know the trick for this.” Bobby popped out his leg, seductively posing as another car rolled by. The bright red, beat-up sedan screeched to a stop. 

Bobby immediately grabbed their suitcases from the back seat as Rosalind ran for the car. She paused as she approached the car, waiting for him, hating herself a bit for it. _ Should just leave him on the side of the road. It’s what he deserves.  _

“Thank you so much for rescuing us this fine afternoon,” Bobby gratefully addressed the driver from the other side of their vehicle. 

“No problem, you can put your stuff in the trunk and sit in the back. Front’s taken, sorry,” a female voice called out 

Bobby placed their suitcases in the trunk as Rosalind opened the back door, spotting a glimpse of loose brown curls from the front seat. 

“Thanks for picking us up,” Rosalind said, taking a seat in the back, running her hand along the ripped lining of the seat. Their savior, she wasn’t too well off. 

“Where you heading?” 

Rosalind let out a hearty laugh, “St Louis, but now to the closest town to get our car looked at.” She gestured to Noah’s sad sedan, steaming away on the side of the road. “Is there a town nearby you can get us a lift to?”

“Of course,” the woman with long curly hair and a friendly smile nodded. “I’m just running an errand, can drop you off in Carlinville. It’s small, but there’s a garage, should be able to fix up your hunk of junk.” 

Bobby stepped in, settling in beside Ros in the backseat, no sign of distress at their current situation. Almost beaming, like his dumb plan was working perfectly. “Very much appreciate your help, miss.” 

“Please, call me Talia,” the stranger said with a smile looking back at them. 

How had they been so lucky to be picked up almost immediately by someone this nice? How could that level of generosity in light of this timing not be suspicious? 

They drove quietly for only a few moments before the questions came. “What’s a nice couple like you heading to St Louis for?” “What kind of meeting?” “Where are you staying?” “Where you from?” “What do you do?”

Question after question poured off the woman’s lips, questions Bobby happily but untruthfully answered. He was always good at this, lies coming off his lips as easily as some people told the truth. The truth was harder for him, but Bobby excelled at lying, even to himself. 

They weren’t heading to St Louis for an important business meeting with an investor, a married couple looking for financing to start a fried chicken establishment. But it was fine for this woman to think those things. 

But Rosalind wondered if she did. 

The excessive questions put an already suspicious Ros on high alert, this woman was being more than friendly, nosy, prying into their business, leaving her to wonder if there were ulterior motives. 

It made her need to ask some questions of her own. She caught Talia’s eye in the mirror, and it sent a chill down her spine. The timing, it  _ was _ suspicious. One of the first things she learned in this business, that Bobby had taught her, was not to trust anyone. 

“So, are you married, Talia?” Ros asked

“Not yet, haven’t met the right person yet, I suppose,” she answered with a casual shrug. Too casual. 

“What errand did you have to run?” Ros directed to the woman. 

“I had to pick up some electrical equipment in Chesterfield to bring to Litchfield.”

Ros nodded, considering it for a moment. 

“Why are you heading this direction if you’re headed to Litchfield? I don’t have my map out. But I know that it’s east, not west, it’s a few miles further that way.”

The woman tensed. “Are you questioning my story, after I picked you strangers up, helpfully offered you a ride?

“I just think it’s a little suspicious that you showed up right after-”

The car came to an abrupt shot, jolting Ros forward a bit. Bobby grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

She pushed his hand away and looked towards the girl furiously glaring at them. A calm, but intense gaze fixed upon her face.

“Get out. Both of you.” 

“But-”

“Get out. I’m having a shitty day. I don’t need you two nosey city folk being snobby and making my day worse. Thanks for that. Now, get out of my car.”

Ros sighed and reached for the door handle, opening it with a strong jerk and quickly exited the car. Thankfully, the woman waited until Bobby had retrieved their suitcases from the trunk before driving off. Eager to be rid of the ingrates. 

Bobby clapped, slowly. “Nice job lass. You’ve got great people skills. Thank you for losing us our ride.” 

Ros outstretched her hands wildly. “I’m not crazy, she was asking too many questions, it was suspicious right? And she’s an unmarried woman traveling alone, just as we’re scheduled to meet a trio of female criminals. What if she’s one of them? I had to feel it out.” 

“Lindy, you were right to be suspicious. But you were wrong about the woman. And your technique was garbage. She was going the right direction.  _ We _ were going the right direction, but now, we’re stuck here, hoofing it. I don’t know what's going on with you, but you’re off your game.” 

Rosalind’s face fell and her brow furrowed.

His expression softened. “It’s ok. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Even the great Rosalind Lord McKenzie.”

“Shut up. I don’t need any of this from you. Let’s get walking.” She straightened up and began walking down the road, following the dust that Talia had left. 

“Forgetting something?” Bobby asked.

Ros turned back to see him pointing to her suitcase, black and heavy, laying on the dirt road next to his. She let out a huff, striding back to the spot. She grabbed her suitcase and picked it up. Bobby did the same, deftly swinging it in the air. Together, they walked down the road, searching for another savior. Hoping for a lift, or even someone handy enough to get Noah’s car back on the road. 

She had threatened to do so many times in the years she had known him, but this time, she would murder Bobby if he ruined this story for her. He may never admit it, but it was his fault they were in this pickle. Until it became her fault. She had screwed up, her instincts dulled in her time out of the business. But at least her sabotage was unintentional. What Bobby did, was well….classic Bobby. It was not a technique he used on her much, but she always enjoyed his little schemes when other people were the recipients. They usually justified their less than savory actions with claims that it was for the greater good. 

Only one more day. And then she wouldn’t have to see his face, live through his inane schemes again.

That thought ebbed at her, digging into her. What would life be without him around? Three months ago their divorce was quickly finalized, they were done. She had been so busy putting herself out there, finding a partner, almost to spite him, shove it in his face. Let him know she had won, moved on, didn’t need him, found someone else who appreciated her. A boring, nice man who would treat her right, buy her a home. Show up on time and stick around. Remember to bring home a bottle of wine. Not turn everything into a dumb toe joke. 

She looked over at him beside her, his smile had faded. It always did eventually. He looked thoughtful, the sun beaming on his face, illuminating those freckles she finally managed to accurately count only a few years ago. Sixty-five at most, some fading in the winter.  He strided quickly, matching her pace. They were always in sync. Their pace, breathing. Always in perfect rhythm. 

Was it actually what she wanted? Walking down the road, lugging her suitcase next to his? She hated how right it felt. 


	4. Maybe not as thick as the ones that Joshua blew down with his trumpet, but a lot safer.

Rosalind pushed past Bobby, knocking against his shoulder, pacing throughout the room. She hadn’t been subtle about how furious she was and wasn’t going to start now, even in front of a stranger. 

After finally making it to a town, they managed to get their car towed to a local shop. And now they waited for answers about the status of Noah’s vehicle. Every moment they wasted here, was another moment keeping them from their destination. The knowledge made her skin crawl, being here was unbearable, their progress had stagnated. 

“This car is giving me bad vibes,” the mechanic sighed, opening the car lid, frowning. He ran a hand through his copper curls. “If I had a guess, I’d say it looks like someone poured water in your gas tank. Someone had it in for you.”

“Gee, I wonder who could have done that.” Ros glared at Bobby, who smiled sheepishly in response. At least he had the decency to look guilty. If only he could be decent enough not to pull these sort of shenanigans. 

“It’s going to take a couple days to get repaired, I need to order some things in from the city.” 

“That isn’t soon enough, we need to be on the road now.” Rosalind stomped her foot, fixing him with her stern but charming pout that had melted many business owners’ hearts in the past. 

“You and your hus-” 

“Oh, we aren’t married. I broke free of this one.” Rosalind pushed him away, he had edged closer without her noticing, his hand gently resting on her hip. Why was he such a goddamn sneaky snake? _Popping out of nowhere, ruining my life before I realize it’s happening._

“That explains a lot. You two have more than just car troubles. Your chakras are way out of balance. I can feel your low heart chakra from here. We should do some breathing exercises, get you figured out.” He bit his lip, casting a thoughtful gaze across them both. "They mesh perfectly, but they’re operating on the wrong frequency.”

“Hear that, Ros, our chakra’s mesh. Maybe we can mesh more later.” Bobby wiggled his eyebrows as she shook her head. So insufferable. Both of them.

The mechanic continued, “I’ve seen this before, the spark burns out, miscommunication abounds. I can help, be a mediary. Sometimes, a third person can help foster intimacy and bridge communication.” 

Bobby was stifling a laugh, but not very well as Rosalind stood wide-eyed, It wasn’t often she was speechless, but this had left her momentarily bowled over, aghast by the proposition. 

_How unprofessional._ Even his attire, not wearing a jumpsuit, but a tattered button-down shirt and denim trousers. And for him to have the gall to even suggest this, it was beyond inappropriate. 

“Listen you nature boy, drop the gobbledygook and fix my car,” Rosalind demanded, her patience for this strange man dwindling by the second. 

The foul-smelling man stepped closer, raising a hand defensively. “Don't flip your wig, I’m just trying to help. A dish like you-” 

Rosalind opened her mouth, prepared to snap, her hands clenched. Didn’t this person know who she was? A lady! What kind of backwards town was this? 

Bobby stepped between them. “Any place we can lay our head while you work on our car?”

“Hawks Hotel down the street, probably something available, nothing fancy for a dame like you.”

“Probably?” Bobby asked.

He nodded. “The Zhong wedding is tonight.” Turning to Ros, he winked. “I can meet you there, should be quite the shindig,” the man said, raising his unwashed brow. 

Rosalind shuddered at the suggestion from this oiled-up machismo fool. “No thank you, sir. We will be back first thing in the morning to check on the car. Please try. It’s imperative that we leave tomorrow.” _The sooner we can leave this shithole, the better._

Bobby placed an arm around her shoulder, leading her away, annoyance fading slightly with his touch. It was something he had always been good at. Riling her up and then calming her. Sometimes she suspected it was the reason he did so many infuriating things. Knowing he was the only one who could bring her back to earth. 

* * *

Another dingy hotel room. Despite the misleading panache of the name, the Hawks Hotel was a pile of trash. Dated, fallen into disrepair but still operating business as usual. Of course, there was only one room. When they had been married, it was customary for them to share. Even before tying the knot, they wore fake rings, masquerading as spouses, saving the Koh family money and enjoying each other’s company. But now things were different. They couldn’t share a room as man and wife, real or pretend. But there was only one room to be had. 

It was a small but cosy room, paintings of lakes and wooded areas lined the walls. Only the finest art for this sort of establishment. They had slept in better and worse places over the years. 

There was only one bed. She rolled her eyes, of course there was only one bed. Bobby had doomed them to this, the cause of so many of her misfortunes. He was this curse that she couldn’t rid herself of. 

He had that annoying grin fixed on his face, but he was nervous. His false bravado often fell away when it was just the two of them. When he didn’t have the upper hand. And he didn't. They may be trapped in this room, and it may be because of his actions, but she held the cards. And she wasn’t giving them up.

She should have seen it coming, that they would be in a mess like this together. Despite their successes, the road to a huge story was paved with mini disasters, train ride chases, and shitty hotel rooms. 

She studied the room. One bed. One table. Two small chairs. 

“You can take the floor,” she said with a smirk.

“But lass, my back. I’m pushing nearly thirty-five. I can’t sleep on a floor. Oh no..no no,” he answered, a typical excuse. There was always an excuse with him. 

“I’m not sharing a bed with you, but I’m open to any alternative ideas. The tub might be a cozy spot for you. Or the car,” she suggested, gesturing towards the door. 

“I have an idea you may not object to.” He walked over to the horrible floral green and purple curtains on the wall. Truly hideous curtains, something similar to the horrendous things Bobby would have picked out for their flat.

Bobby took them down, taking the fabric from the rod and somehow fashioning it securely down the center of the bed. He raised his arms triumphantly. “Behold the walls of Jericho. You stay on your side, I stay on mine.”

Ros let out a laugh, “I’m almost impressed by your ingenuity.” 

“I do my best to impress you. Nothing feeds the ego quite like Rosalind Lord-McKenzie’s approval.” He bowed, a cheesy smirk gifting his face. 

Bobby swiftly took off his jacket, throwing it on his side of the bed. His tie long lost in the chaos of the day, he pulled down his suspenders and reached to unbutton his white dress shirt. 

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m knackered after the day we’ve had.” 

“Don’t you think we should talk about tomorrow? Figure out a plan?”

Bobby continued unbuttoning his shirt, hints of his freckles popping out from where his skin was visible. Unlike most men, Bobby refused to wear an undershirt, declaring it pointless, a waste of money. It had been a point of contention between him and Lucas, something they would drink and argue about. 

She sighed, knowing it would be up to her to figure out a plan. He tossed his shirt haphazardly on the floor. Rosalind chuckled, remembering all the times she complained at his messy tendencies, all the socks she had waved in his face while he protested his innocence, blaming their ghost. It was always the ghost’s fault.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen this display. Still take off your socks last?”

“Aye, always lass. It’s the only way. I look good in socks, and it makes you laugh.”  
  
“Only you would want a girl to laugh at you when you drop your pants.”

His trousers soon found themselves on the floor beside his shirt and he bent over to remove his socks, his eyes never leaving hers. Down to his underwear, a familiar pair of navy blue, matching his suit, he stood again, slowly approaching her. 

“I strive to be unique, I think of it as one of my finest attributes. Although you always had different opinions.... I remember you said you liked my bum more than anything.”

“That was a long time ago,” she retorted in a biting tone.

“Eighty-three days.” He sighed, looking around the room purposefully, presumably for the bottle of whisky they had picked up from the local shop. 

“What?”

“Eighty-three days ago. That was what you said. The last time. We… you know.” His cheeks grew red and he averted his eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were counting.”

“I… well. I miss you. You know that right?” He kicked at the ground, looking like he hoped it would swallow him right up. “I was saving money for a house, you know. I wanted to do more for you, for us.”

Ros let out a sigh, she had known it was inevitable, that his walls would collapse and he would drop his obnoxious facade, the one he put on to prove he was worthy to the rest of the world.

Sometimes she felt like the only one who got to see him as he was, vulnerable and insecure, desperate for the approval of others. She walked towards him, leaving a careful distance between them, resisting reaching for his hand. It would only complicate things for them both.

“I know… I… just couldn’t do it anymore. This. The fighting, the uncertainty of it all. I needed a break from it.” 

“A break from me.” He looked to his feet as if they held the answers.

“Or just a break from who I became when I was with you. I stopped liking that person,” she admitted for the first time. Having placed all the blame on him, taking the moral high ground when she wasn’t much better, it hurt to admit. One day, she looked in the mirror and hated the person she saw. And hated Bobby for turning her into that person.

She gazed at him, the man she would always love, standing before her. Broken and hurt, but wanting to help her. So much love still shone in his eyes, the gentle way he looked at her. 

“I think you were incredible, I wish you could have seen yourself the way I saw you,” he said, his voice full of longing, teasing words that would go unspoken. 

Rosalind barked out a laugh. “I wasn’t incredible, I was petty and mean, short-sighted. Remember the time a few months ago where we left a woman stranded on the side of a road because we needed her car and she didn’t want to give it up. I don’t know what happened to her. Or even her car. At the time, I didn't care. All that mattered was that we got there before the Tribune. We jump through these insane hoops riding that adrenaline high like nothing else matters.” 

“We could have changed together, I could be different,” he said quietly, unconvincingly. Bobby was a lot of things, but he couldn’t be dull. Never could he be the person to sit at home, stay in one city. Always on the move seeking another adventure. 

“No, you can’t. Me and you together, it’ll always be this. Bonkers adventures, they're fun and satisfying but is it worth it?”

“Of course it is. Remember that story we broke. Yes, we left that woman screaming and crying. But we caught a killer before they skipped town. You think the lazy saps at the Tribune could have done that? No, just us. Yeah, we care about getting to the story first, but we’re the best at it.” 

“Maybe.” Ros paused thoughtfully, unable to keep herself from asking the question she had spent many hours pondering. “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

He smiled wistfully at her. “I never thought you would actually leave. I kept waiting for you to change your mind, come back.”

“You should have known I’m too stubborn for that. Once I set my mind on something…”

“I know, I guess I wanted you to stay because you wanted to, not because I guilted you into it. Or tricked you. But you didn’t stay. I lost you,” he said sadly, his eyes locked onto hers, allowing her to feel his devastation, his regret. 

“You didn’t lose me. I’m still here.” 

He chuckled. “Aye but for how long? I can’t see that boring clod you’re planning to marry being ok with us meeting up at Carl’s for lunch, shooting the shit about whatever rackets going on that week.” He paused, laughing suddenly. “Ironing socks and popping out babies, is that really what you want? What will make you happy?”

“I hope so.”

He frowned, his brows drawn together in concern. “I was happy with you, were you not all that time? I know we have our playful tete a tete, but I thought it was fun for both of us.”

She took a step towards him, wanting nothing more than to give him comfort in this moment, but knowing she couldn’t give him what he wanted. “Bobby, please. You know I loved it, love you.” 

“But you don’t want to? Love me,” his voice cracked. “You know you can’t just decide to stop loving me and start loving him. I know you.”

“Then you should know how stubborn I am.” She raised a challenging brow, a teasing smile on her lips, one that she knew failed to reach her eyes. Rosalind needed a return to the banter, _that_ she could handle. This- talking, a real conversation was harder. 

“I do, I’m sorry about the car thing today, I freaked out a bit.” He exhaled slowly, apologizing was always a difficult task for him. Normally she would celebrate, having worn him down enough that he would finally admit that she was right. She almost always was, he was merely terrible at acknowledging it. 

“I didn’t think you would actually cop to it, I’m almost disappointed in you,” she teased, all the anger from earlier had melted away, staying angry with Bobby was always something she struggled with. 

“That wasn’t my intention, I don’t want to disappoint you anymore.” He paused, cocking his head, his expression hopeful and desperate. “Do you want me to give up on you? Say the words and will, I promise.” 

He looked at her with so much devotion and love, it broke her, having to say it. Commit to things really being over. 

Her stomach tightened, but she answered. “I know. I don't want you to stop fighting for us, but it’s what I need. So yes, please give up on me.”

Bobby nodded, his eyes glassy. “Ok,” he choked out, trying to force a smile. “Got it.”

He shifted away, moving over to the far side of the bed, the sheet creating a sort of boundary. His presence still reverberated throughout the room. She could feel his pain and disappointment as if it were her own. Because it was, nothing could ever hurt as much as causing him pain. It was easy being annoyed with him, bantering about whose fault things were, the teasing, flirtation. But now that it was just them, raw and exposed, the wounds of their breakup exposed for them both, it was harder. Somehow, they had avoided this. They snapped, accused, argued, but never had an honest conversation about their divorce, instead she put up a shield, pretending he no longer mattered. It was always a lie she told herself. No one could ever matter more. 

She reached into her suitcase, digging through until she found a pair of pajamas. Careful to stay hidden on her side, she undressed, changing into a royal blue nightgown, satin, and lace. It was one of her favorites. Why had she chosen it? Had she hoped this night would play out differently? 

Maybe. It was ultimately for the best, but it still ached. Her chest felt tight, breathing a challenge. 

Pulling back the comforter slightly and slipping into bed, she could hear Bobby’s breathing beside her, mere inches separating their bodies, she could see his silhouette. She turned off the light on a lamp beside her bed. 

In the cover of darkness, she finally let the tears come, quiet melancholy had filled the room. Despite not being able to see it, she knew that Bobby was crying as well. Even in their pain, they were always in sync, connected. 

Deep down she doubted she would ever be able to sever that connection, and that she even wanted to.


	5. When I find myself in a position like this, I ask myself, what would General Motors do? And then I do the opposite.

Early the next morning, they trudged over to the mechanic’s shop and were met with unfortunate news. The car would require several days of repairs. Another thing to feel guilty over. Rightfully so, he had miscalculated how much this would set them behind. Bobby frowned, frustrated that he had screwed things up so badly. The story, their marriage, all of it. He was a screw up. And now they needed another way to St Louis. 

Waiting several days in this shitty town wasn’t an option, so they set off for the train. Lugging their suitcases onto the platform, they waited and waited. A train was due to pass through in an hour or so and they needed to be on it. 

It was that or hitchhiking which neither wanted to suggest after their debacle the previous day. So they waited. 

Neither speaking, what was there to say? Everything that needed to be said had been spoken. All words would do now was break the silence, replacing it with nonsense, nothing that would change where they were. For once Bobby had nothing to say, not a goddamn word worth wasting a breath on.

Bobby’s heart had been in constant duress since the moment Ros had said she was leaving, but now it had finally broken, shattered on the floor of that shitty motel room and its horrid green carpet. 

It was over. He knew how it happened, where he had gone wrong, beyond his action- that he was wrong. What was the point of any of it now? There was nothing he could do but hurt.

For the first time since he met her, he didn’t want to look at her. Couldn’t. He only ever felt joy looking into her eyes, catching a glimpse of her annoyed smile. Her face in a constant battle between wanting to kiss or kill him. Now, it provided him with no solace, just emptiness knowing he wouldn’t get to hold her again, be the one to make her laugh, savor in the way she would close her eyes and lean her forehead against his. 

So they waited. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. A train ostensibly, but he didn’t need a train. He needed her to hold his hand and tell him they were always going to be together, that their paths would meet again, destined to intertwine. 

But she didn’t, so he waited. Waited for something that wouldn’t come.

He had played the role of jokester his whole life, and somehow he had become that for her where she couldn’t see him as anything else, take him seriously. That hurt too. Of anyone in the world, she was the only one he had ever let in. Other than his mother and sister, who he hadn’t seen for years since he immigrated to America, leaving Scotland and his family behind. 

In Chicago, he had a job he loved and her, his new family. 

The train arrived and they boarded. It was half empty, partially filled with chatty passengers, folks from a small town heading into the big city of St Louis. Some finely dressed, like they were. Maybe people also from Chicago, visiting relatives or friends in St Louis. 

Bobby and Ros settled into their seats, her in the window seat as always. She needed to see everything. It was an endearing trait, always eager to explore and learn, never satisfied with what she knew. 

He glanced at her only briefly, a sad thoughtful expression on her lovely face as she gazed out the window.

So close, but there was so much distance between them. The three months they spent apart after their divorce, that was nothing. He missed her, but he had hope. Now, there was only pain in these moments they shared together. 

Bobby looked over studying the strange-looking pair in the aisle across from them. A short man in an ill-fitting suit with short blonde hair and obnoxious energy sitting next to a gorgeous buxom redhead, dressed down in practically rags. The man’s hand lingered on her knee, rubbing circles with familiarity. 

“St Louis, can you believe it doll? We're hitting the big time now, gonna perform at all the clubs, move on to LA. Big things ahead for Timothy Roberts. You better believe it, hun.”

“Oh baby, I can’t believe we’re finally doing it. My mom will be furious when she finds out, but this is where I’m supposed to be with my man. Not stuck being some boring farmer’s wife, cleaning up cow dung.” 

Bobby shook his head, holding back a bitter laugh. So young, so naive they were. He almost wanted to warn the pair, their life wouldn’t be as grand as expected. In ten years’ time they may be on this same train miserable and alone, memories of better times as their only warmth. 

He let out a sigh, drawing Rosalind’s eye to him. He smiled, knowing it wasn’t very convincing. If he tried really hard he might be able to pretend not to be devastated, but what was the point?

It wouldn't change a damn thing to fix the anxiety rolling in his stomach, the deep pain doomed to live in his chest. 

After an hour of traveling, they landed in St Louis, immediately hailing a cab to the address they had been given.

Ros clutched the note she had received with ferocity like it was the only thing she believed in, getting to that spot. 

She was always driven when it came to following a story, observant and obsessive. Nothing else mattered, they always joked that her blood ran cold the moment she got wind of a story. She became vicious, single-minded in her pursuit of victory. Once the story was printed, her name attached, she could relax, become the soft funny girl he also loved. He wasn’t sure which side of her he loved more, both more incredible than any other woman on the planet could hope to be. 

Bobby wasn’t sure what to expect, would they be there, or another clue to a more secret location? Would they be disguised? Why did they want her to come? 

Rosalind bounced with excitement as they hailed a cab, quickly shouting out the address to the driver. She was giddy, they were both unsure of what to expect and that managed to make for an exciting time.

Would the pug gang ladies be there, or another clue to a more secret location? Would they be disguised? Why did they want _her_ to come?

Usually, they had more information to go on, but a call into Lucas and their friend Gary at the police station had yielded no information about the address or the owners of the lot it resided on. 

The driver took them along an isolated road, long roads leading to expensive houses lined the path. Slowly they approached a sign. 701. The driver turned into the road. 701 Barnes Road. They arrived. 

As they drew closer to the house, they caught a glimpse of several cars in the large entry area. Police vehicles, whatever happened, they were too late. 

He looked over at Ros, who didn’t look surprised at the reveal. If anything she looked more determined. 

“Pull over there,” Ros instructed the driver. Pointing to the side of the road, close to the house, but where their car would be hidden from the police’s view. 

The car stopped, and Rosalind hopped out. Spreading her deep purple skirt out, making sure she looked perfectly pressed, not a hair out of place. There never was. She somehow always managed to look immaculate. 

He mused her hair every once in a while just to make her laugh when she was overwhelmed. Despite her regimented way, _that_ never irritated her, it was like she knew it was what she needed. 

A few minutes later she returned to the car. “Get out,” she gestured to Bobby. “Driver can you come back and pick us up and take us back into town in an hour or so. That should give us enough time.” 

The driver offered a gruff agreement that he would return, all the same, they retrieved their suitcases just in case they needed to hoof it back to town.

Again Bobby regretted his actions yesterday. In his head, it had been necessary, but in retrospect it was another example of him being selfish, proving that Rosalind had made the right call dumping him from their bed and from her life. 

As the car pulled away, Ros stepped closer, her voice quiet but resolute. “They hit here a few hours ago. The cops are wrapping things up, vague statements of catching the criminal. He didn’t say if there was a note, but we both know it’s not a coincidence. The homeowners are home, three cop cars, we just need to wait until they leave.” 

Bobby nodded, moving their suitcases into the wooded area that lined each side of the road. They waited, their backs to the trees until three police vehicles passed them. 

They walked towards the house, not needing to discuss tactics. It was a familiar game and they played it well, each knowing their role. 

They walked towards the mansion, focusing on the black door in the center that called to them. Bobby knocked twice, and they waited. 

The door opened and a nervous-looking man answered. He was tall, with deep brown skin, his black hair set in rows. “Can I help you?” he asked. For a wealthy owner of the house, he was more amiable than most rich people they had dealt with in their years of investigations. Even dressed down in a blue button-down shirt and slacks. 

“Hello, I’m Archie Leach and this is my partner, Katherine Johnson. We were called by Sergeant Zabinski to help with this case. Private detectives, the police call us in for the important cases. The ones they prioritize.”

The man nodded, reaching out to shake Bobby’s hand. “Thanks for your help. My name is Ibrahim Asante. My wife and I, we’re grateful for any help. Even if…”

A shrill voice called in the distance.

Ibrahim looked down momentarily before looking back at Ros and Bobby. “I’m sorry.”

A woman with long golden brown hair pushed past the man, immediately looking disdainfully at the duo. “Why are you here?”

The man stepped forward, addressing his spouse. “It’s ok, hun, they’re helping with the investigation.”

She narrowed her eyes at them, looking them down disdainfully before turning and walking away.

Ibrahim opened the door, gesturing for them to come in. “I’m sorry about her, my wife Elisa, she’s fairly upset. Her jewelry was taken, most of it was valuable, passed down from generation to generation in her family.” 

“I understand completely, Mr. Asante. Why, I would be downright furious if someone had waltzed into my home and taken even one of my grandmama’s rings, let alone everything,” Rosalind said warmy.

“Please call me Rahim,” he directed with a small smile. 

Bobby chuckled spotting Elisa walking past with a bottle of wine clutched in her hand, rings lining every finger. At least she had some jewels left…

“Can you tell us about what happened, Rahim?” Rosalind asked the man with an encouraging nod of her head. 

“There’s not much to tell, we came home after a week away and everything was gone. No sign of a break-in. Elisa doesn’t always remember to lock up so it’s not too surprising.”

“You didn’t leave here with her?” Bobby looked to Ros, who rolled her eyes. 

He shook his head. “I had a golf tournament in Philadelphia, she came the last day and we traveled home together. She had been visiting her mother in South Carolina.” 

“What did the note say?” Rosalind asked.

His brow furrowed at the question. “The police took it, it was just a drawing of a dog. Weird right?” 

“Hmm.” Ros nodded. “Mind if we have a look around?”

Ibrahim shrugged. “Be my guest.” 

“Rahim,” Elisa shrieked from upstairs, he gave an apologetic look and then hurried up the giant staircase that stood in the alcove of the home.

“Oi, rich people, you can’t buy taste,” Bobby said, surveying the mansion. “Why so much gold?” 

Ros whacked him in the stomach. “Shove it, we’ve got work to do.”

After an hour or so of searching, nothing had been found, everything in its proper place, their continued presence beginning to irk the household, or more appropriately the woman of the house. 

She pulled out her note, studying it for secret clues. 

“See anything?” 

“No.” Ros looked away, letting out a deep frustrated sigh. “Was this whole trip pointless?”

“Come on, the great Rosalind Lord giving up so easily? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Maybe I’m changing.” She turned away, beginning to search the house, looking for anything the cops may have missed. They always did. 

"What do know about pugs?" Bobby waggled his eyebrows. “These dames are all about the furballs.”

"I don't know - they snort, they're chubby, they like sleeping." Rosalind waved her arms, chuckling. 

"That's it! Check under every pillow and soft surface! We're not going to let this sleeping dog lay."

Rosalind laughed, turning over pillows, before throwing one at Bobby’s head.

“Let’s keep going.” 

Bobby looked through drawers in cabinets, knowing it was pointless, if anyone figured out a clue here, it would be Ros. Something meant for her to find. 

Every once in a while, he would catch her looking again at the note, holding it up to the light, certain there was something she was missing. 

Suddenly, she shifted like a light was turned on in her head. 

Finally.


	6. I'd make you most unhappy, most. That is, I'd do my best to.

Philadelphia. This fucking place, she couldn’t stop now. They were too close- to what, she didn't know. But it was too late to turn back. The puzzle was too enticing, somehow these women had known that about her. Chosen her to chase after them. 

The initial note proved to be the first clue into a household scavenger hunt ultimately leading them to a note with an address in Philadelphia. It was a relief having figured it out, finally spotting subtle differences in handwriting style. Rosalind was impressed by the amount of effort those girls had put in hiding cluse among the house. Behind pillows, photo frames, hidden in drawers. It had been a long but ultimately successful search. She had placed a call to Lucas and left a message, passing the information on.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about them, why had they chosen her? Why were they doing any of this? She felt a strange kinship to these strong women, one step ahead of the men in their life. She had to find them, follow this through to the end. 

There was only one problem- Noah. She had been a fool to think she would have been happy with him. That she could have married him. The only thing left to do was to let him off her hook. How could she spend her life with someone she couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in a car with?

The one thing stopping her from calling and ending things was the idiotic lug sitting beside her, twiddling his thumbs, occasionally stopping to chatter about why his hands were so nice.

She couldn’t let him win, say the words, “I told you so. You’ll never be happy with anyone but me.”

He was right, but fuck, to let him know it...give him that power. It almost made her want to flee the diner they were sitting in and rush off to wed Noah that very instant. Be miserable the rest of her life, just to prove him wrong. 

He began whistling and she kicked at him, earning a surprised gasp from her ex. “I’m sorry for trying to add some levity to this place.” Raising his brows, he smirked, always seeming to take pleasure in her annoyance.

He was right. This dank, miserable diner wasn’t doing much for their mood. It was brightly lit, but dingy and dark at the same time. The other diners sat, drinking coffee and picking at their shitty food, looked equally unhappy. This place wasn’t somewhere you went when your life was in a good place.

“So what’s the plan, Lindy lass?” he asked, placing his hands behind his neck, looking at her expectantly. His eyes bright with excitement, knowing it was all up to her. Continue the chase or return to Chicago empty-handed, a dutiful bride-to-be.

Rosalind pursed her lips, returning his good humour with an annoyed glare. The thought of giving him that satisfaction was impossible. She needed him to be wrong. 

She tapped her mauve fingernails against the counter, taking her time answering, knowing the waiting would bother him. “The plan is, I’m done. Heading home. This was a waste of time, I’m getting Noah’s car back and we’re heading home.”

Bobby frowned, his brows knitted together, doing that thing where he feigned being deep in thought. Always so transparent. 

He let out a dramatic exhale, as if he had come to an important decision. Rosland rolled her eyes, waiting for him to break the silence. “We’ll get you on the first train tomorrow to Chicago, and I’ll continue on without you. This is my fight too now and I can’t just walk away. No handsome lad waiting for me at home.” Bobby winked, causing her to roll her eyes again. The way her eyes suffered around him, truly unbearable sometimes. 

“What?” she answered, deadpan, refusing to fall for his manipulation tactic. He could never do this without her. 

“I’m invested now too. I’m not as incredible as the majestic Rosalind Lord-McKenzie, but I’ve held my own. I can continue on the trail they’ve left without you. It would be more fun with you, but don’t worry I got this.”

“Oh, ok.” Rosalind furrowed her brow. “You know you’re wasting your time. And I’m not changing my mind. But you’ll never find them without me.”

He shrugged. “I’ll give it my best. Go marry your beau, it’s what you want right? You start popping out babies, I’ll pop out a killer story.”

Their waitress appeared, curvy with bright red curls and a frown burned onto her face. She dropped the check on the table and walked away. “Miss, miss,” Bobby called out, “Shannon.” 

The waitress stopped, turning around with crossed arms and a scowl. “What?” she flatly answered. 

“Do you happen to have a phone we can use? This lovely lady has to make an important call. Let her hubby-to-be know that she’ll be back in time to tie the knot,” he said with a smile, that charming disingenuous smile that had won her over years ago. That smile that always said ‘I know how fucking adorable I am.’ Had he ever tried not to be a pain in her ass? 

“There’s a pay-phone outside,” she answered, turning around and returning to the counter. 

Bobby raised a brow, saying nothing, doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk.

Ros slammed her hands on the table. “Alright then.” She stood up. “Can’t wait to be rid of you,” she muttered loud enough for Bobby to hear and stormed out, furious with him for putting her in this situation.

Idiotic louse, all of this was his fault. Their marriage, divorce, this stupid caper she had let Lucas talk her into. She should be home, ironing Noah’s socks or whatever useless business nice married women did. 

She dug through her handbag, retrieving some coins from her change purse. Letting them fall into the coin slot, she felt dread washing through her. This was it, her moment to officially decide. She had said yes when he asked, not completely expecting to end up at the altar. What had she wanted? Bobby to fight for her? He had, and she pushed him further away. 

Dialing Noah’s phone number, she hoped he wouldn’t answer. Maybe be out? Dinner with a friend. Or a late night at the library? 

It rang twice and Noah with his deep soothing voice answered, “hello?”

“Noah, it’s me Rosalind.” She forced a smile, despite the fact that he couldn’t see her, psyching herself up for the difficult chat. 

“Rosalind, it’s wonderful to hear your voice. I’ve missed you so.” 

“Same,” she answered, her voice low, subdued. 

“Are you and Bobby on the way back home?” he asked, sounding nervous. Like he knew the answer was no. It was the only answer, it had been foolish to think she would make any other decision. 

“Uh, not exactly. I’m sorry, Noah, but we must continue on to Philadelphia. There’s more happening here than I can tell you and it’s important for us to figure it out. But I still should be able to be back by Saturday morning. If your car is fixed I suppose, we’ll head back to check on it tomorrow, otherwise we’ll have to take the train to Philadelphia which may take-”

“Ros,” Noah interrupted raising his voice. “What about my car?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” She waved her hand reassuringly, instinctively for her own benefit. “Bobby was screwing around and it broke down yesterday. We had to take the train to St Louis, we’ll take the train back tomorrow and see if it’s been fixed.”

There was a long pause on the line, as she waited for him to answer. 

“Rosalind, this is not ok. I need you to come home. Right now. Forget Bobby. Forget the case. Take the first train home. Why are you putting yourself through this? Come home. Let’s get married, it’s what we wanted. You to get out of this sort of thing, right? Instead, you’re out there putting yourself in danger. For what?”

“For what? This is important. My work is important,” she said raising her voice, aware it was the first time she had done so with Noah. 

“Is it? Come on, Ros. This isn’t exactly life-changing reporting, it’s titillating garbage.” 

His voice, his words, so cold, dismissive. For a moment, she hated him. 

“It’s my life,” she said defensively, remaining calm but irritated at the lack of respect he was showing. For her work, for her- they were entwined, forever. Calling her work garbage, it was like he had said those harsh words to her. 

He may love her, but he didn’t respect her. That was now clear. 

“I thought I was supposed to be your life. Ros, I can’t do this. I'm not waiting for you. Either come back tomorrow or not at all.”

“Then, I suppose it’s not at all.”

“Really Ros?”

“Really. I don’t respond to ultimatums. If you wanted to marry me, you would wait. You would understand how important this is to me.”

“But it’s not important. It’s just a distraction. Why did you go on this insane job right before we’re set to get married? If you wanted to marry me, you never would have left,” he pointed out. And it was true. She had welcomed the distraction, only pretending to be annoyed by the prospect of missing their wedding.

Rosalind sighed, knowing he was right. They both were.

“I’m sorry, Noah.” It was the only thing she could think of to say. 

“I am too....it’s just….I think it’s for the best.” His voice was low, a bit wistful, but resolute. 

“You’re likely right,” she chuckled. “Maybe my mom was right, I can never be tied down.”

He laughed in return. “Maybe my mom is right, I should just marry Hannah.”

“Who?”

“Oh, she’s our neighbor’s daughter. Her mom and my mom have been trying to set us up for years. She’s a sweet girl, if I asked her...I know she would turn up on the day. We have similar values.”

“And we don't?”

“No, I don’t think we do. But I wish you well. Maybe you’ll find someone someday who can deal with the life you’ve chosen,” he spat out, a little bitterly. It was strange, like he couldn’t decide if he was angry with her or not. 

“Goodbye Noah.”

“Wait, my car, wha-” 

Rosalind hung up the phone, tears forming despite herself. She breathed, in and out.  _ Don’t cry _ . Why? She didn’t love him, that was clear. And yet, her chest felt tight. Her heart hadn’t been touched, only her ego had been bruised. Because he didn’t respect her? Their fantasy life ended before it could begin? Regardless, it hurt. She exhaled slowly, plastering on her winning smile, ready to dazzle the drippy diners, despite themselves.

She opened the door, energy infusing every step. If she wasn't ok, she could at least pretend to be. Plopping down next in the booth, she tapped her hands a few times on the counter, fixing Bobby with a bright smile. “Miss anything good?”

He looked over at her, his eyes shifted in concern and his smile faltered for a moment before recovering. Why was she never able to fool him?

He nodded. “You did. See that fella over there? He’s quietly staring at his coffee now. But a minute ago, he was over there.” He pointed over to the couple by the far window, chattering quietly to themselves. “He stole their pancakes and wore it as a hat, walked the entire room with it. The strangest things I’ve seen. It was chaos in here, truly mad stuff.”

Rosalind giggled, letting herself imagine the absurd situation he created. Even now, she could always count on him to cheer her up, even when he didn't know why she needed it.

“Everything go alright?” He cocked his head, gesturing outside to where she had ended things with Noah. Or more appropriately, where he had ended things with her.

“Oh, great. I’m staying. Noah completely understood, what a relief,” she exhaled joyfully. “Everythings on hold until we got back. He’s the best. I’m a lucky gal to have him.”

“Good, that’s good.” Bobby nodded up and down repeatedly “Good. So we’re doing this? You and me, traveling together, solving this case and then when it’s done, you’re getting married.”

Rosalind grinned, it was a lie, but the one she needed to believe right now. At least for him to believe.

Bobby banged on the table excitedly. “Ok then, I took care of the check, we should get going, figure out our accommodations for the night and tomorrow take the train back to St Louis. Check on the car, and head on our way.”

“Oh about the car?”

“Yeah?” Bobby asked.

He couldn’t know, he'd become insufferable if he knew things were over with her and Noah. More insufferable. Noah wouldn’t be too bothered to be without his car a week or so, it would be fine. 

She shook her head, shaking off the idea of telling Bobby they needed to return his car to Chicago. “It's nothing but please don’t do anything like that again.”

“I cross my heart,” Bobby smirked, gesturing in agreement.

And with that, they left. Off to find a St Louis Hotel.

Rosalind mourned the life she would never get to have with Noah. But more than anything, felt guilty for how relieved she was to be let off his hook. It wasn’t right, they weren’t right.

She had led them both on, teasing a future that would never be.

All she had ahead of her was a story. Nothing was going to stop her now. Not Noah. Not imaginary children that she didn’t really want. Not wrinkly socks.

Her path ahead was clear. Now, she was more determined than ever to see her name in print on the front page. An incredible story was her future. 


	7. I was just wondering what makes dames like you so dizzy.

They entered The Grand Hotel, a bounce in Rosalind’s step. The weight had been lifted, she was under no obligation to be loyal to Noah- to think about him, plan her life around him. In their short time together, she had stifled herself in service of her goal of being a good wife. Now she knew that would never be her. She was a newspaperman. It was what she was good at, the life that was destined for her. 

The hotel was a considerable upgrade from the previous night, silver and blue accents filling the elegant open space. Looking towards the check-in desk, Rosalind caught a surprising sight- it took a lot to surprise her but here it was- legs in the air, it’s occupant hidden behind the reception desk, moving around haphazardly. 

A man was walking on his hands behind the desk. Feet pointing to the ceiling.

She and Bobby exchanged a long look- both equally confused but Bobby more intrigued, amused almost. He would find humour in the absurd. Bobby rang the bell, giving the man an admiring nod of approval as he flipped effortlessly back onto his feet.

“Bravo,” Bobby praised, clapping as the clerk took a bow. 

“Thank you,” the clerk answered. “Checking in this evening?”

“Indeed good sir…” Bobby paused looking at the man’s name tag. “Sir Rohan,” he continued with his most charming smile. 

Rosalind rolled her eyes, he was so over the top sometimes. Or all the time.

“We’re looking for two of your most average rooms. Nothing fancy, but also, you know, something nice. I _am_ travelling with a lady.” He gestured to Rosalind, his amber eyes glinting with mischief. Always so damn mischievous. 

“Of course sir.” Rohan politely nodded and began rifling through his desk looking for something. 

“Can you teach me that move?” Bobby asked, tapping his fingers on the desk, not able to just exist in the silence.

“Hm?”

“The handstand thing? I think this old dog is capable of learning some new tricks, right Lindy?” He winked. 

“I think I’ve seen all the tricks I’ve ever needed from you.” She rolled her eyes back at him, lips pursed in a tight smile. 

Rohan gestured to the guestbook, handing a ballpoint pen to Bobby. “Please sign in here.” 

Ros watched as Bobby signed his name and address on the guestbook, and handed the pen over to her, their fingers lightly touching. Quickly, she shifted from him, looking down to sign her name, Rosalind Lord-Mck-. She stopped. Not McKenzie any more. She scribbled out the last part, hoping Bobby wouldn’t notice. When she looked towards him, his eyes were fixed on the attendant walking back towards them holding two keys.

Her heart sank. 

She had heard him ask for two rooms, but now it felt real. Two keys for separate rooms. They had never done that before. She swallowed hard, why did this hurt so badly? 

Bobby cheerfully accepted the keys and the bellhop accompanied them and their luggage to their separate rooms. And so they went, down the narrow, brightly lit corridor. She walked behind, not slowly, not her typical speedy jaunt. Bobby walked ahead, why was he acting like everything was fine?   
  
It hurt, more than it should. She had spent many nights away from him, but never one where he was so close, just on the other side of a wall.

After unloading their bags, they stood in the hall, avoiding the other’s gaze. The silence was almost unbearable. Bobby was never this quiet. It was disconcerting to say the least. Finally, their eyes locked hold, but the silence remained, he looked like he had nothing to say. That almost never happened. 

It was silly, she wasn’t broken-hearted over Noah. But it was upsetting, her life plans shifted, stolen from her- and she craved Bobby’s comfort, his touch, it was the only thing that she needed at this moment. For him to grab her, crash his lips into hers and ravage her against the hotel door. Make her forget. 

She took a step closer. She always felt like on a string with him, the more she looked at his amber eyes, the stronger the hold became. He was so beautiful, and always managed to look at her like she hung the moon. But now there was pain in every look he cast her way, even now as they stood only a foot apart. She missed that joyful spark in his eyes, that mischievous gaze that charmed as much as it infuriated her. Involuntarily, she found herself thinking of him- his plump lips, the things he could do with those lips, that tongue of his. Studying him, she could see the conflict on his face, the way he was pulled towards her the same way. He wanted her, and tonight he could have her. As she prepared to take a step forward, close the gap, he shifted, turning towards his door. 

“I uh. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He swallowed, looking back at her for only a moment before averting her eyes once again. 

“Oh.” She paused, frowning momentarily before forcing out a smile. “Tomorrow, yes. Goodnight Bobby.”  
  
He smiled sadly at her and bobbed his head. “Goodnight Rosalind.”

Bobby opened his door, not giving a second glance her way. If he was hoping she would stop him, he played it cool, moving swiftly and shutting the door behind him.

Exhaling deeply, she felt rooted to the ground, wanting to follow him. Not be alone. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. He didn’t know. How could he know that she ended things with Noah? That she was free from entanglements, free to make this mistake with him. 

But if she went to him, it would be a mistake. For both of them. This was what she needed- to be free of Noah, Bobby- not relying on anyone for her own happiness. 

This was for the best. Keep things uncomplicated, not let them fall back into familiar patterns despite how good it would feel.

Rosalind entered her room, pacing, changing into her pyjamas only to pace again. She could feel him on the other side of the wall. What she wouldn’t give to just feel him on top of her one last time, just for a night.

She sighed, it was pointless. It couldn’t go anywhere, she couldn’t give him false hope. Couldn’t knock on his door and push him against the bed like she’d done a million times in other hotel rooms. She let herself fall onto the bed, face-first against the duvet. Frustrated, it had been too long since he’d been inside of her, his lustful gaze burned into her memory.

Rosalind turned over, settling her hand on the pillow, her finger drawing down finding her centre, wishing instead it was Bobby’s tongue. The way he would look up at her, confident yet eager to please. Like he was made to please her. 

She rolled over, trying to push the thoughts of him away from her mind. Pressing her face into the pillow, focusing on the darkness, the silence, the pressure on her face. And yet, all it did was continue to remind her of him. The way he’d press her down, burying his mouth against her, her screams muffled by the pillow under her face.

This wasn’t happening. Sleep, she needed it. She had a long day ahead of her. She had to spend it with him. And if she was going to do it, she needed rest. And goddammit she wasn’t going to get any rest until that itch was scratched.

Ros rolled onto her back, closing her eyes with a sigh. He was a looker, there was no denying it. He was an idiot, but he was a looker - and it felt good to think about him. Her hand drifted down her nightgown, the sheer fabric offering little resistance as her touch left goosebumps down her skin. 

She’d get off and then she could sleep. That would be the end of it. That would be it.

But the moment her finger landed, the instant she was enveloped by the warmth of her touch, she knew that wouldn’t be the end. 

Bobby.

She imagined the way he’d press her to the bed, toying with her, drawing out her eagerness with gentle touches. The way he’d kiss her. Ravenous. Hungry. His earnest energy flowing into her, feeling like he could kiss her for hours but knowing how much more of her he needed. 

Her fingers coiled, gently caressing herself through the fabric. It would have been his fingers, should have been his fingers. The way he’d pin her - she’d resist, of course, but it was all part of their game. The game they played at every possible opportunity. Teasing, tickling. How he’d run his free hand down her body, relishing in the way her hips would buck for him. God how she wanted to feel his fingers on her again. Just once more. 

But that wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough.

His mouth would move from hers to her neck. Nipping and licking, sending shivers down her spine. His fingers would continue to work, grinding against her, edging her closer with that unbearable pressure only he seemed to know how to provide. 

But necking was only a detour for him. His face would move down, lips caressing her nipples- leaving wet, eager kisses over her breasts before she begged him to go lower. He would oblige, of course. Because it was Bobby. 

The flames licked at her legs as her finger swirled around her clit, aching for even the slightest bit more. His tongue, his finger, his cock - just the heat of him near her to bring her over the edge. But instead, she remembered. Remembered how he’d nip at the insides of her thighs and lick along the waistband of her underwear. How he’d drive her crazy before even laying his tongue where she wanted it most.

She’d buck. She’d beg. She’d tug his beautiful hair aching to feel his mouth against her but he’d resist. Not because he didn’t ache for it as well, but because he liked to watch her squirm. The same interaction they’d have countless times a day, now distilled into the simple act of him not tonguing her clit when she needed it most.

Goddamnit Bobby.

And like every other interaction, he’d give in. But only when he wanted to. And that’s when he’d take her. Sometimes pressing her panties to the side, sometimes tugging them off, sometimes just pressing his tongue to her over the fabric if he really felt like being an asshole.

But his tongue would always meet her eventually. The way he yearned for it, the way she yearned for him. The way the world fell away when his warmth would finally meet her. Her fingers would never be enough, but they would have to do. They’d have to do because there was no way to feel the way it felt when his mouth was on her. Hearing him groan between her legs, his sighs of pleasure - just as content in doing that as she was to be receiving it.

Ros stifled a moan. The walls here were thin, too thin. He would hear her.

And so what if he did?

What if he heard her gasping. Heard her hissing through clenched teeth as she touched herself. Would he come? Would he listen, imaging the things he could be doing to her to pull that rumble from her chest? Would he touch himself too?

Was he?

Was he imagining his face buried between her legs? Was he remembering the times her thighs had clamped around his head as she came against his mouth, biting her lip, struggling to resist screaming his name in any of the other countless thin-walled hotels they’d stayed in?

Was he thinking about her right now? Would he come thinking about her?

Fingers slick, her breath caught in her chest. The flames danced around her as her hand danced. Yes, he’d come. She’d come. Her mouth open, her eyes clenched, she felt the world around her pull away. She went rigid as the tension flowed out. Gasping for air, she lay - her fingers delicately playing with herself as she wondered if Bobby was doing the same.

Hoping he was.

She turned out the lights, shifting back and forth. It could have been 20 minutes or an hour. Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned. 

All she could think about was him. That silly louse of a man. And all the ways he could make her feel. 

Still frustrated, she pulled herself up, exhaling. Why were things like this? She had scratched the itch and it still remained- sleeping a few feet over, a damn wall between them. She looked at her watch, 10:05 pm. 

The room felt small, she needed to escape. She hesitated at the door, it would be a mistake, but maybe a mistake she needed to make today. 

Now resolute, she opened the door, the decision made. One last time together, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, maybe it would help them each move on. 

She knocked on the door, once quietly and waited a few moments. She knocked again, twice, but a little louder now. 

There was no answer. Was he already fast asleep? It seemed unlikely but possible…

She knocked harder this time, frantically, a loud banging that would certainly wake him. She exhaled, as her worry began to build. Why wouldn’t he answer? Was he that hurt by her? So stubborn. No. He just couldn’t hear, it was the only explanation.

She reached for the knob testing it gingerly. Unlocked, she pulled it open.

Lights on, the room empty, sheets ruffled but without its occupant.

Where could he be? 

Dread filled each step she sat on the edge of his bed, a lump in her throat.

For the first time, she realized it was possible. He could move on. He had a life outside her, outside the paper. Of course, he had friends. But she worked, that was his life. 

Now that she let him go, he was free to find someone else. She laid down in the bed that he had left, still warm, his sweet smell remaining. Numb and clutching against the pillow, she sobbed herself to sleep.


End file.
